VICTIM OF THE CRAZY GOLF BLUES

By complete chance, on a stag weekend, I was first to tee-off as a group of men got ready to play 18 holes. I’m useless at golf. I get so cross with this impossible game that I gave up many years ago. However, on this occasion, I was first to play. The other ‘stags’ fell silent(ish) as I took my ‘drive’. Amazingly it was a great strike. It even got some applause. This is the only time for me that proper, adult golf, has gone well.

Years later, I might bump into some of the lads from that day and they will still think I’m good at golf. It was luck. A gift from God. However, where I do shine is crazy golf and some really impressive new places seem to be emerging. I’ve played ‘Hedge End’, eight over par; ‘Poole Park’,12 over thanks to a slow-moving windmill. At the weekend, I played ‘Lyndhurst’ and was on course for victory.

Sadly, one of the holes was near the ice cream booth and quite a crowd had gathered. I was the last to play this hole in my group. The lead was mine until disaster struck. Like no other sport on earth, you can be having a great day on the crazy fairway and then boom, it all goes wrong. What was a simple par three, with a straight play through the rear end of a double decker bus, ended in disaster.

True story: this par three, this one hole, I managed in 19 over par.

The pressure of spectators was too much. I could hear them laughing and making ‘ooooh’, disappointed noises. I simply don’t know how the likes of Richard Bland and Rory McIIroy handle it.

Maybe I need a caddy?